


Egregious

by ThereIsAn_Ace_UpTheseSleeves



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: (Literally someone is stabbed in the first chapter), (Past) Abusive Relationship, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Blood, But also, Death, Eric is The Squip, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Fist Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, M/M, Mystery, Nightmares, Oh did I forget to mention?, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Slow Burn, Support, Supportive Brooke who makes Jeremy do social things, Suspence, Triggers, Unhealthy Relationships, Your usual mafia stuff, break ups, lots of triggers, mafia!au, probably some smut later on, you’ve been warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-12 20:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15348516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsAn_Ace_UpTheseSleeves/pseuds/ThereIsAn_Ace_UpTheseSleeves
Summary: e·gre·giousəˈɡrējəsadjective1. outstandingly bad; shocking.2. remarkably good...Jeremy Heere has been through a lot. And right when he thinks that the world can’t throw any more curveballs, it fucking speed launches Michael Mell at him.





	1. The Battles of One Jeremiah Heere

**Author's Note:**

> It’s gonna be a wild ride, so hang on kiddos. 
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING!!! THIS CHAPTER MENTIONS BLOOD, DEATH, AND INVOLVES AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP. IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS, PLEASE DON’T READ***

Jeremy hadn’t planned on finding out what sweat and blood mixed together would taste like today (or any day in his sad existence), but he supposed that life had its own ideas.

His vision was blurry and pulsing, yellow spots dancing around and blinding him even further. There was a painful buzz all over his body that made it difficult to concentrate on the man in front of him, much less what his next move was going to be. Jeremy breathed in rapidly through his nose and out from his mouth, trying to get some air flow into his brain. His vision needed to clear _stat_.

“Oh, come on. I thought you had more fight in you.” Eric made a pouty face a few feet in front of him, blood smeared beneath his nose and over his left eyebrow. But his fists were still up, and he didn’t look like he was ready to surrender any time soon. Jeremy gritted his teeth in response, choosing to ignore Eric and try to get his mind working again.

“Guess you just don’t have the stuff, huh?” Eric continued, taking tiny steps to the left, obviously trying to move without attracting Jeremy’s attention. But if there was one thing Jeremy had learned in the past four months of rigorous training, it was to _be aware of your fucking surroundings._

He blinked a few times and shifted to the right, raising his fisted fingers a little higher and digging his elbows into his aching sides. “I wasn’t expecting much, but _damn_. It’s apparent that those bony arms can do no more than jab your own sides.” Eric’s eyes were darting everywhere, taking in every aspect of the atmosphere. It didn’t escape Jeremy’s notice; he could practically see the wires and gears turning and clicking into place in Eric’s mind.

“You’ll never catch up.” Eric seethed, suddenly making a quick jab at Jeremy’s stomach. He managed to move out of the way to avoid the full impact, but Eric’s fist still grazed over his sensitive flesh, leaving a burning feeling all over his abdomen. But somehow, the overdosage of pain seemed to flood his veins with a new rush of adrenaline, heightening his senses and clearing his vision a little.

For some reason, as this happened, Eric’s words seemed to finally register, hitting him hard. He’d never catch up. He wasn’t good for anything but bringing hurt to his own body. _He didn’t have what it took._ Jeremy felt his eyes burning despite his internal pleas to just _focus on the goddamn fight._ Eric seemed gleefully aware of what he was doing to Jeremy, because he smirked and practically sang out, “Aw, are you going to go cry to mama?”

Jeremy sucked in a breath and moved forward at lightning speeds, hitting Eric right beneath his jaw and sending his head snapping back. He immediately hopped backwards, wiping some of the sweat n’ blood mixture off his brow and preparing himself for Eric’s next move. He watched as the opposite man fumbled for a single moment, raising his fists again with a crazed look in his eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that, Jeremiah.”

It was blur after that. Jeremy was already tired and hurting and bleeding, but he managed to put up a decent fight. He followed every protocol he’d been taught; every trick he’d perfected; every tactic he’d learned. Of course, he was no where near a match for Eric. Eric‘s moves were tragically flawless in every way. He had seemingly endless stamina, and his fists were still tight as clamps. Jeremy’s were starting to lock up. He wanted so badly for this to end. Even if it meant he’d be the one on the floor, bleeding.

So he decided to play a risky move.

Jeremy stepped forward like he was about to swing, causing Eric to dodge. At the last minute, he moved his foot to Eric’s heel, attempting to trip him.

Instead, Eric shoved his foot backwards.

The effect was sending Jeremy to the ground in a heap of sweat, blood, and tears. As he hit the plastic mat, he felt his head go numb with pain. He hissed, bringing a hand up to cover his face.

The shame kicked in once he decided that he wasn’t going to get back up. Eric recognised this and kneeled down, prodding at Jeremy’s hands. “You did fairly well, Jeremy. Considering that I’m an unbeatable opponent, you did exceptional.” Eric sat down fully, crossing his legs. “You just have to think fast and remember to focus. In a fight, it isn’t always your strength that claims the victory.”

But all Jeremy could feel was the regret and disgust pooling in his belly. He could have kept fighting. He could have kept going. The tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes before he could stop them, but he hoped Eric wouldn’t notice them among the other wet substances on his face. But when cold fingers swiped at Jeremy’s eyes, he knew Eric knew.

Jeremy finally uncovered his face, meeting Eric’s gaze. His boyfriend didn’t look unimpressed or disappointed. He merely looked thoughtful, like he was contemplating something. “You know that I’m hard on you so that you’ll survive out there, right?” Eric mutters the words lowly, like they’re secrets. “By being your lover, my only job is to protect you and keep you happy. If something happened to you...” Eric trails off, looking lost and unsure of what to say.

   Jeremy takes the initiative, sitting up abruptly and pulling his boyfriend into a hug. The notion feels slightly awkward at first, but when Eric wraps his arms around Jeremy. It soothes his nerves. “I know, Eric.” He says into Eric’s shoulder. His tears have stopped, thankfully. It hurts to twist his body in the way he is, but he doesn’t complain and he sure as hell doesn’t stop. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

The words are supposed to be a reassurance to Eric, but Jeremy finds that the words are also directed at himself. A desperate plead to any divine being that was watching over him.

“Not as long as I’m here. I will always protect you, Jeremy. You can’t rely on anyone but yourself and me. In my line of work, you can trust few.” Eric pulls away from the hug suddenly, gripping Jeremy’s shoulders. It burns like fire and causes something to rise in the back of his throat, but Jeremy doesn’t say anything. He just meets Eric’s eyes and deals with it.

“I’m the only person you can trust. There are so many people who would revel in killing you to weaken me. You can’t trust anyone. Only me.” His voice suddenly goes soft, his grip loosening on Jeremy’s shoulders. “Okay?” He breathes. Jeremy nods along, like he always does. He always listens to what Eric says and everything always turns out all right. Eric always knew the answers. He’d been working in this field all his life, so he knew much more than Jeremy probably ever would.

So, as Jeremy will always do, he nods.

“Okay.”

 

//

 

There’s a ring on his finger and Jeremy almost swerves off the road three times because he can’t stop gazing at it.

   It was a simple, thick silver band. There weren’t any jewels embedded in it, but it did have the dark imprints of Eric’s fingerprint. Jeremy had to admit, the idea had weirded him out a little at first. But after thinking about it and hearing the way Eric spoke of it, he’d come to realise that it was sort of romantic. This way, there would never be a doubt that he belonged to Eric. It’s how his fiancé had put it, anyways.

Jeremy was driving down a dim interstate, music playing softly through his USB cable. It was music that he was going to ask Eric about. He could see it playing at their wedding as they danced...but he’d have to check. After all, how embarrassing would it be if Eric didn’t like Jeremy’s music taste? Even the thought made him feel a little queasy.

“ _Take exit 5B off of Interstate 9._ ” His navigator interrupted his music, making him jump at the sound. As Jeremy switched lanes, he decided to turn Siri off. He knew his way home from here. After all, he’d made many trips back and forth when he’d still been in college. Back then, he’d been dating a girl named Madeline. She’d been sweet, but it obviously hadn’t worked out.

When it came to Eric, things were different. Jeremy felt a certain security when he was in Eric’s arms. He knew that no one would ever hurt him as long as he was with Eric. Jeremy was sure when he broke up with Madeline that he wanted to be the protect _ed_ , not the protect _or_. And Eric was everything he wanted and more. He was anything and everything Jeremy would ever need. He knew deep down that he’d never find anyone better.

For the rest of the ride, he ran over what he was going to tell his parents. Dad and Mom knew about Eric and had approved of him long ago, but frankly, Jeremy hadn’t planned on marrying Eric before, and had told his parents such. He already knew his Dad would question the contradiction there. And Mom...Mom had always been fairly pushy, trying to get Jeremy to marry Eric. He guessed that she’d be thrilled.

Jeremy hadn’t always had the best relationship with his parents (similar to the bond his parents had with each other), but they _were_ his parents. Of course he wanted them to be proud of him and his choices. He hoped he was making the right ones.

Jeremy stopped at a familiar 7-Eleven that was right down the road from his house to use the restroom and get a slushy. It was mostly for nostalgic reasons; he’d probably take a few sips and put the rest in the freezer to sit. He was surprised when he noticed Madeline at the cashier.

“Maddie?” Jeremy called, bewilderment in his eyes. Madeline looked up from her nails, face unreadable until she spotted Jeremy.

   “Jeremiah Heere! Never thought I’d see you again!” Jeremy walked over with his items, smiling.

   “How have you been? It’s certainly been a few years,” Jeremy said, leaning across the counter to give his ex a hug. Madeline still had the same almost-too-thin figure, and Jeremy smiled a little wider at the smell of her shampoo.

“I’ve been pretty good. I actually got married!” She presented a golden ring, a good sized diamond on it. “No way! I’m actually engaged!” Jeremy in turn showed her his own ring, to which she oh’d and awe’d over.

   “So now you work at this gas station, huh? You used to make fun of the employees here back in high school.” He smirked slightly at Madeline, to which she only giggled. “That’s a true statement. But I needed some kind of a job, and I refuse to work at that crusty place we call a grocery store.” This got a genuine laugh out of Jeremy as Madeline began scanning his items.

They made a little more small talk, and Jeremy learned that Madeline was married to a gentleman named Andrew who worked as a physiatrist. He was surprised to hear that she was actually three months pregnant. He congratulated her, and, when prodded about his own fiancé, told her about Eric. “I never believed that you were actually bi! Guess you proved me wrong,” Madeline commented with a huge smile.

When Jeremy said that he should probably get going, Madeline leaned forward and pecked Jeremy’s cheek. “Come visit, okay? I’ll probably be working here all my life, anyways.” Jeremy grinned in response, agreeing.

As he exited the gas station and got back into his car, he felt warm. It felt refreshing to see Madeline again, and to know that she was building a comfortable life in their hometown. Jeremy almost wished he could convince Eric to move back to Red Bank. But he knew that Eric had to stay in Chicago. Besides, he didn’t want Eric’s “buddies” anywhere near this town. Who knows what kind of havoc that would cause.

Finally, Jeremy drove a few more blocks down the road and pulled into his old driveway. Dad’s Chevy was parked in the driveway, and if he knew his mom well, her Toyota was in the garage. (She absolutely refused to let the sun beat down on it all the time.)

He took a moment to collect the wrappers and trash that had collected over his twelve hour drive, stuffing it all into a plastic bag. Then he set it aside, grabbed his slushy, and got out of his car.

As soon as he got a good look at his house, he sensed something was off. There were zero lights on. Jeremy hoped his parents hadn’t forgotten he was driving in tonight. He’d repeatedly told them. (He also hoped that the least of his worries would be having to wake his parents up.)

He took his keys out and unlocked he door, twisting the nob and pushing it open. The living room was dark, his parents no where in sight. Jeremy felt something cold creep up his neck, but he wasn’t sure why. He set his slushy down on the counter as he passed through the kitchen, still frowning and still glancing around crazily. It was so quiet. And not in the cozy way. In the dead silent way.

Jeremy made his way upstairs slowly and cautiously, trying not to make any noise and listening for any sign of humans in the house. His parents cars had been in the driveway, for fucks sake.

As Jeremy finally made it to the top of the steps, his heart skipped a few beats. There were drops of blood coming from his parents bedroom and leading off down the hall. He recognised the dark colour mixed in with plush carpet from his training with Eric. Swallowing hard, Jeremy rushed to push open the door, peering inside his parents room.

He flicked the light on and immediately saw a body lying on the floor. Oh god, that’s his dad. That’s his dad, holy _shit_.

Jeremy practically pounced over, moving his dad and checking for a pulse as his eyes began to sting. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was a pool of blood from his dad’s head, and the side of his forehead looked crispy. Was he...burned? What was even happening? How did this happen? Where was his mom?

No pulse.

Jeremy didn’t allow himself to mourn, almost able to hear Eric’s catchphrase: _You’ll have time to hurt later._ It had been used when Jeremy had been in too much pain to go on, and this felt horribly ironic.

Instead, he grabbed a blanket and hurriedly placed it over his fathers body, wiping his eyes to clear his vision before exiting the room. The hallway air smelled fresher than the air in the room, and he realised what the room must have smelled of rotting flesh.

Taking a deep breath, Jeremy raised two fists. Whatever had happened, the air didn’t feel right. He had fighting training—he might as well be prepared for any attackers.

Jeremy followed the blood down the hallway, to his old room. He frowned as he entered, scanning the bare bed and dresser. He walked to the middle of the room and stopped, feeling his heart pounding in his finger tips. The window was open, and there were two bloody handprints on the windowsill. Jeremy had been right— _someone_ had done this. And they’d gotten away. But who had it been? Where was his mother?

Jeremy decided he should stop pretending to be an investigator and call 911. His chest felt tight and his eyes were still stinging, but he pulled his phone out and began dialling.

“Jeremy,” A voice hissed. Jeremy practically screeched, jumping and flipping around, raising his arms in defence.

Eric stood in the doorway, looking slightly damp, like he’d gotten rained on. But it wasn’t raining outside.

“E-Eric? What are you even doing here? What’s—m-my, dad,” Jeremy’s voice finally seemed to break, the reality hitting him at last. His breath began to come out haphazardly, sharp and choppy. “I have to c-call—“

“No, you don’t. We need to leave. _Now_.” Eric slapped the phone out of Jeremy’s hand, letting it hit the carpet. Jeremy blinked rapidly, shooting a confused look at Eric. “What? No! We have to call the police! M-my dad’s dead, Eric! And my mom is no where to be found! We can’t just _leave_!” Eric grabbed Jeremy’s wrist painfully tight, lips in a straight line. “Yes, we can. And we’re going to. Come on.” Eric moved to leave, pulling Jeremy along with him.

Jeremy didn’t know what to do. His parents were dead, his fiancé was set on leaving, his eyes were blurry with tears. He couldn’t breathe properly, and his head was spinning. But he knew that he couldn’t just leave his dad’s corpse on the floor. So he yanked back on Eric’s hold and yelled, “No! I can’t leave!”

Eric raised his hand and slapped Jeremy so hard that he almost toppled over. “Shut up.” Eric seethed, voice hard. Jeremy brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling the warm rush of blood. He blinked a constant flow of tears from his eyes, shocked and numb and hurting.

When Eric pulled on his wrist again, Jeremy didn’t resist.

 

//

 

Things had changed.

Jeremy didn’t know how else to phrase it.

Eric had cancelled any and all public wedding plans, instead having a private ceremony that had only involved Jeremy, Eric, and the priest. Eric had boughten a cake for “celebration”, but it sat uneaten in the fridge for weeks.

Eric was always at work now. He only came home late at night, and most of the time he paid no attention to Jeremy. When he did, it was only for sex. And it wasn’t even pleasurable anymore. It was always hard and rough and cold, like Eric didn’t really mean it. He’d fuck Jeremy and then leave him weak on the bed, taking a shower and disappearing into the hallways of their house.

Jeremy tried several times to go back to New Jersey to see if the police had ever found his dad’s dead body, or if they’d found his mother. But every time, Eric’s new guards stopped him. “They’re there for your protection.” Eric had explained.

Jeremy felt trapped inside their huge house. He felt skittish when Eric was around, because any slip up ended with a slap or a hit or painfully harsh words. He learned how to bandage injuries and mastered how to minimise scarring.

   Eating was something that he rarely did, and when he did feel hungry, he usually couldn’t eat much before he felt full and disgusted.

He recognised his relationship for what it had become: abusive. But Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to try and leave. It crossed his mind over and over again. He’d even packed a bag with money and necessities if he ever built up the courage. But when it came down to it, something seemed to be holding him there. He couldn’t even dream of leaving. Because every once and a while, the Eric he fell in love with would come back. On the nights when Eric didn’t work or seemed in a good mood, he’d bring Jeremy a flower and kiss him sweetly and they’d watch TV on the couch.

But other days, Eric would choose only biting words to say to Jeremy. All patience would be lost, and even a move in the wrong direction made him angry. So Jeremy learned. He learned how to stay out of Eric’s way and learned how to escape punishment in any way he could.

On their seven month anniversary, Eric brought home the ingredients for chicken Alfredo.

“We’ll cook together. Sounds nice, right?” He smiled down at Jeremy, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Jeremy tried not to flinch at the action, smiling weakly back. “It does.” He replied, trying to look as excited as he could.

And as they cooked in their marble kitchen, Jeremy slowly felt himself getting comfortable. He knew that tomorrow Eric would probably go back to being mean, but tonight, he had the man he fell for back. Jeremy was grateful for that much.

When the food was cooked, Eric scooped two plates full and set them down, taking a seat across from Jeremy and smiling. “Smells delicious,” Jeremy commented, twisting his fork into the pasta. He wasn’t too hungry, but he was going to make himself eat the entire plate, even if he threw it all back up later.

Eric made conversation, asking Jeremy what he did all day and if he ever called anyone. The questions almost offended Jeremy, because he was sure the guards reported everything he did to Eric. Plus, he wasn’t allowed to phone anyone. It was against the unspoken rules that Eric had established, along with no leaving the premises. But Jeremy answered like he didn’t know all of that, even laughing and making up a story about watching a movie once that was funny.

It felt tense and awkward to Jeremy, but Eric kept on a soothing smile, and it made him wish he could relax.

“Maybe you should start cooking for me. This was delicious.” Eric said as he finished the last of his pasta. Jeremy licked his lips, sitting up a little. “Do you want me to?” If Eric asked, he had to. He would. Instead of answering, Eric suddenly reached across the table and grabbed Jeremy’s hand. He felt a little panic rush through him, but he managed to not show it on his face.

“Jeremy, I wanted to ask you something.” Eric said the words softly, like he was trying to coax a kitten out of a tree. “Y-Yes?” Jeremy replied, swallowing down the anxiety building in his chest. He hoped this wasn’t a trick question, where Eric would bring up something Jeremy messed up and then get angry at him. “I was thinking,” Eric continued, squeezing Jeremy’s hand. “You have all that training from back in the day,” He said slowly. “You should put it to use.”

Jeremy immediately pulled his hand back, not caring if it made Eric angry. “Eric, no. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to get involved in your...line of work.” Eric sighed, a gentle look on his face. “It won’t be hard or dangerous, honey. I promise.” He leaned forward in his seat, reaching across the table and caressing Jeremy’s cheek. It hurt slightly, considering the bruises underneath his skin, but Jeremy didn’t move. “I always said I’d protect you, and that’s what I’ll do. You can trust me.”

The words hit Jeremy in a terrible way, flooding him with a mixture of pain and betrayal and fear. How could this hellhole he called his life be any form of protection? How could Jeremy trust Eric when he was so violent and cold? He pushed his seat back and and stood up abruptly, hands balled as he backed up. “I said no.” Jeremy said firmly, voice for once steady and calm.

Eric stood as well, dropping his mock-caring demeanour and giving Jeremy a hard look. “Well I say yes. And it’s not like you’re going to disobey me. C’mon, you’re not that stupid.” His voice was flat and uncaring, a tone Jeremy recognised. Eric had already made up his decision about this. The dinner, the nice words; they’d been nothing more than bait to get Jeremy in Eric’s favour.

“Eric, I can’t do this anymore. You-you’re not who you used to be!” Jeremy yelled, voice brittle after months of keeping it at barely above a whisper. Eric didn’t respond, merely stepping closer to Jeremy. On instinct, Jeremy backed up, hitting the counter. _Shit_ , He thought. _I backed myself into a corner._

“Jeremy, listen to me.” Eric took yet another step closer, hands raised like he was surrendering. “I’m offering this to you with thoughts of your best interest. If you do this, everything will turn out okay. Your mother—“ Eric suddenly stopped, a brief look of panic flashing over his features.

Jeremy felt his heart rate skyrocket. “You-you know about my mother? What happened to her? How do you even know?” Jeremy asked question after question, feeling a familiar panic come over him. “ _Tell me!_ ” He practically screamed, voice raw. Eric, Eric, _Eric_. He’d probably went back to find out about Jeremy’s parents. He probably knew exactly what had happened. Why was he so set on keeping it a secret?

“I misspoke,” Eric said, taking the final step closer and cutting off any way of escape for Jeremy. “Your mother is dead, and your father is dead, and I’m all you have left. I know what I’m doing. I would never hurt—“

“You _already_ hurt me, Eric!” Jeremy’s throat burned, his eyes burned, his mind was hissing. Nothing made sense. Everything was swirling around in his head, dark and confusing. “You always tell me that you’ll protect me, and that you’re the only person I can trust, but it’s utter bullshit! You hit me! And you’re never here! And you have me trapped inside this mansion like a fucking prisoner!” Jeremy felt the tears spilling out, but he paid them no attention, instead trying to think of a way out. He had to leave. He couldn’t stay here any longer. Enough was enough.

“Everyone else will hurt you more!” Eric shouted back, raising a hand. It made Jeremy flinch. “I teach you things! I teach you to use your brain and not act like an idiot!” A sob rocked Jeremy’s body. In that moment, he wanted to die. He wished he could sink into the floor and stop breathing and stop thinking so that Eric’s loud voice would go away.

He wiped his eyes with his hands, casting his vision downwards for a moment. As he went to lift his face again, he caught sight of a knife on the counter. It had been used to slice the chicken. His breath caught as he formulated a plan. It was risky and it made Jeremy’s knees shake, but it was his only way out.

“It isn’t like you have anywhere to go—“ Eric was cut off as Jeremy did the only thing he could to distract him. He leaned forward and smashed their lips together harshly, letting their teeth grind against each other. Eric didn’t react at first, but he eventually licked over Jeremy’s bottom lip, choosing the route Jeremy hoped he would.

As Jeremy kissed Eric, his hand reached for the knife. His fingers were shaking, but he managed to grab it and hide it in the fold of his pants. When Eric pulled away, he looked a little calmer. “Now, have you come to your senses?” Jeremy let a single tear slip down a cheek. A single tear for this relationship that he was going to lose. A single tear for the pain, for the bruises, for the millions of other tears. But also for the good times. The kisses, the sweetness. The laughs before everything had turned sour  

“No.” Jeremy said lowly, bringing his hand up and ramming the knife as hard as he could into Eric’s stomach.

As soon as the knife had plunged into Eric, he pushed him away and scrambled to get out, out, out. He heard wet garbling come from Eric as he grabbed the bag he’d stuffed behind the sofa. He needed to leave. He was going to run far, far away where no one would ever find him. Hell, he’d even change his name if he had to.

As he ran out the house, prepared to push through dozens of guards, he was beyond grateful that the guards seemed to have disappeared. Jeremy’s chest was heaving, a panic attack coursing through him, but he managed to unlock his dusty old car and toss his duffel bag into the passenger seat. He wasted no time in starting the car and putting it into gear.

He fucking peeled out.


	2. The Mystical Myth That Is Recovery (Or So It Seems)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been exactly two years, three months, and five days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. 
> 
> (Don’t worry, you’ll get your Boyf Riends next chapter.) (Jk) (Jkjk Michael comes in next chapter) (Or does he???)
> 
> ***WARNING*** BLOOD, GUNS, KNIVES, AND NIGHTMARES/PTSD DISCUSSED IN THIS CHAPTER. IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS, PLEASE DO NOT READ ***WARNING***

It’s been exactly two years, three months, and five days.

After some contemplation, Jeremy had moved far from Chicago and back to New Jersey. But not back to Red Bank. Even though he was free to go wherever he wanted now, he couldn’t bring himself to go back. And while he was curious to find out about his parents, he was also terrified of having to face the truth, along with any familiar faces. So he’d moved to a town that was far, yet still painfully close.

Princeton became his new home. He went to college for two years, earning an Associate’s degree for computer science. He became a web designer, constantly making websites for new businesses. It wasn’t the best paying job out there, but it wasn’t like he had much money to spend on tuition. (He’d burned every credit card that linked him to Eric’s accounts, successfully separating himself and successfully making himself poor. Hurray.)

And gratefully, he never saw anything on the news about a man who got stabbed. Even though Jeremy knew that a single stabbed person in a whole city of mafia and murder was child’s play, the police weren’t after Jeremy, so it was definitely a win.

Originally, he’d wanted to open up a bakery in town. It was something he’d always dreamed of doing but never got the chance. But, as he’d stated before, he didn’t have much money to just blow off. He knew his food was decent, but it seemed more likely that he’d open up his bakery and then go bankrupt. Plus, his apartment rent was already fairly expensive. (Curse him for having to choose a college town.) Plus plus, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle that much human interaction. So he took the safe route. Even if Brooke constantly told him that his pastries were the best she’d ever tasted.

Brooke Lohst, a girl Jeremy had met in one of his classes during his first year of college. He’d tried to blend into the background and avoid conversation with anyone, but she’d been very persistent. And after a few tries, he’d finally agreed to get a bite with her. They became friends very quickly due to her kind personality and naive nature. For a while, Jeremy had been a little scared that she was coming onto him, but she’d just laughed and said that she already had her eye on a girl.He’d relaxed at this, and things had gone back to normal.

Jeremy was honestly grateful to have at least one person to talk to. The first year after his... _migration_ had been rough. He’d constantly been watching his back, feeling paranoid that someone was going to show up and take him away, back to Eric. Of course, he knew that wasn’t rational. Eric was dead. Probably. Most likely. He was 99.9% positive. (He knew Eric was dead, but constantly thinking about it made his anxiety think otherwise.) The second year had been a little better, but he remembered still feeling spooked all the time. And now, three months and five days into year three, he’d started therapy to try and get better at not jumping whenever he brushed against someone.

“I want you to write down what happened in detail,” His therapist, Rose, handed him back his leather notebook. Her facial expression was as unreadable as it always seemed to be, like she was masking her emotions to soothe Jeremy. In reality it just made him more anxious and slightly irritated. He didn’t need to be babied. He was twenty-two, for Pete’s sake. “You need to become less scared of the event and more acceptant that it happened.” Jeremy bit his lip hard as he took back his book.

Acceptant. How could he just accept everything that had happened? How did anyone ever accept anything that affected them as greatly as this had affected Jeremy? Do they just wake up one day and say, “Oh, I’ve accepted it.” Acceptance seemed like a fairy tale. A make believe word that therapists used to trick their patients into thinking they were better again. That’s what it seemed like to Jeremy.

Sometimes, he wished he could have someone to blame. Someone to scream at and sob to. Well, someone who wasn’t dead.

Either way, he felt as though therapy wasn’t working as well as it should be. For one, he couldn’t tell Rose the whole story. That would end badly. _Oh yeah, then I stabbed him! How’s that for healthy coping skills?_

Still, he supposed he could _try_ to recover instead of running away.

“Okay,” He says, mostly just wanting to get out of this claustrophobic room. Brooke was waiting for him outside, probably listening to some lame 2010 song sung by Ariana Grande or Selena Gomez. They’d made plans to go watch The Incredibles 2 together, and frankly, that sounded a hell of a lot more fun than to sitting here and getting told by Rose to ‘ _accept_.’

“I know it’s difficult,” Rose said, a hint of empathy bleeding into her voice(like she was actually a human being and not a robot). She gave Jeremy a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have a few more weeks of sessions, and when we’re through, you’ll see how much improvement you’ve made. I can see it already.” Jeremy seriously doubted that he’d gotten any better at coping with this, seeing as he still had nightmares and he still couldn’t eat pasta. (Much less chicken Alfredo.) He honestly doubted that he was ever going to be able to let go of what had happened, especially when he couldn’t seem to let go of Eric’s goddamn wedding ring. It had been taken off his finger, but then slid onto a necklace and hung around Jeremy’s neck. In other words, _not gone._

Recovery? Make pretend. Fake. Another fairy tale.

But it’s not like Jeremy could say any of this to Rose, so he just nods and gets up to leave. He pays for his session at the front desk and then finally, _finally_ , he opens the door and is hit with a cool burst of air. It’s on the colder side today, but it’s actually somewhat comforting. He wraps his cardigan a little tighter around himself as scopes out the parking lot, looking for the red Honda he knows is around somewhere.

And there it is. Jeremy spots Brooke as she pulls up to the curb, the sound of her music spilling through the cracked open windows. _Just as I suspected_ , Jeremy thinks as he opens her car door. Who Says blasts out into the parking lot, a song older than his blue cardigan.

“Hey,” He says as he gets in, closing the door lightly and turning down the music.

“Hey!” Brooke smiles hugely at him, licking her lips. “How was the session? Feel less anxious?” Jeremy picked at the cuffs of his cardigan as he spoke, noddingwith fake enthusiasm at Brooke.

“Oh, definitely. Two sessions and my anxiety is completely cured.” Brooke huffed at him in response, waving her hand.

“Fine, I get it. You never want to talk about your feelings with me. I’ll forever remain devoid of your emotions.” Jeremy felt the slightest bit of guilt come over him at that, but Brooke seemed to have moved on already. She sticks her tongue out as she turns up the music again, bobbing her head to the beat. Jeremy merely rolls his eyes fondly, allowing himself to sing along partly and thanking her silently for letting the matter drop.

Brooke has a beautiful and powerful voice that he can hear loudly over the song, and Jeremy chooses to listen to it more than he does he music. It definitely helps him unwind from his stupid therapy sessions. Who enjoys therapy anyway? Probably only people who fake their mental issues for attention.

Jeremy never told Brooke about his past or why he really goes to these sessions. As far as she knows, he’s just a normal guy who came to Princeton for college and ended up staying permanently. He never planned on telling her any different.

As Brooke drove them through the streets of Princeton towards the AMC theatre, Jeremy scrolls through his Instagram. He mainly just uses the app to check on his favourite actors and singers (and to message Brooke), but sometimes he’ll actually look at things on the search tab. He especially enjoys looking at dogs, since he really wants one but doesn’t exactly have the money. Ah, the things he could do if he had cash to spend.

When Brooke turns off the stereo and stops the car, Jeremy slips his phone into his pocket. “So, so, so. Before we go into the theatre, I gotta tell you something.” Jeremy raises an eyebrow.

“You could have told me on the way here.” Brooke huffs slightly, putting her car into park.

“I didn’t want to distract myself and run over and old lady or something. It’s really exciting!”

Jeremy waves his hand vaguely, smiling. “Fine. Spill the beans.”

Brooke takes a long time to clear her throat and turn in her seat, which Jeremy responds to by yawning exaggeratedly.

“Your girl got herself a date,” She finally says. Jeremy grins immediately, going to congratulate her, but Brooke raises a hand. “And! And! Remember that girl I told you I had an eye on? It’s her! She’s so unbelievably gorgeous, Jeremy, you don’t even _know_ —“ Jeremy listens as Brooke raves about her date. Honestly, from Brooke’s description, he agrees that this Chloe is probably beautiful. Lucky Brooke.

“Well, I wish you all the luck I can on your first date with her.” Jeremy replies, running a hand through his hair and attempting to untangle his curls.

“You know, I should find someone to get you with. You, sir, need a romantic partner.” Brooke pokes Jeremy’s shoulder, to which he just scoffs and tells her that they should get into the theatre before the movie starts.

The thought of having a romantic relationship with anyone made Jeremy feel...suffocated. He didn’t think he was ready for the expectations he’d be locked down with in what was considered a ‘healthy’ relationship. He could hardly stomach hugs with Brooke. Sex? Out of the question. Cuddling? If he was having a good day. Kissing? Debatable. Overall, Jeremy was pretty sure he’d probably end up being a loner for the rest of his days. (Fine by him.)

They went though their usual movie theatre routine: Jeremy paid for the tickets and Brooke bought them a large bucket of popcorn, a drink, and two bags of candy (skittles and sour patch kids) to share. It eased Jeremy’s mind. Just knowing that he and Brooke were comfortable and had a routine made him feel a thousand times less anxious about everything.

When they finally entered the theatre, they found a spot in the very back; Jeremy’s favourite place.

“Dare me to scream _honey, where’s my super suit?_ really loud?” Brooke asked, grinning ear to ear. Jeremy felt his cheeks burn at just the thought, shaking his head rapidly. “Um, no. I do not dare you. No daring in this Christian, er, theatre.” Brooke giggled in response, stealing the popcorn back from Jeremy.

“Scaredy cat. Also, you’re _Jewish_.”

After that, it was nothing but smooth sailing. They watched the movie, Jeremy had more than his fair share of popcorn and candy, and overall had a good time. (The flashing lights on the screen did throw him off a bit, though. They definitely messed with his eyes.)

When the two had climbed back into Brooke’s Honda, a mostly empty popcorn bin and a half empty skittles bag tossed carelessly into the backseat, Jeremy was ready to go home and sleep. Brooke was going on about everything she’d liked and disliked about the movie in a timely fashion. It was something Jeremy had come to accept about Brooke; she was a critic. Not a mean one, but definitely a demanding one.

She only stopped when Jeremy skilfully brought his arms up, feigning a yawn and hitting Brooke lightly over the head. She got all huffy and defensive at that, which made Jeremy laugh and laugh and laugh until Brooke pulled into his apartment parking lot. By then, he was barely breathing at all.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get it, you hate when I rant.” Brooke grumbled as she put her car into park. There was a smile on her face that contradicted her tone, though. Jeremy finally managed to get ahold of himself, wiping tears from his eyes and sighing.

“I must admit, I haven’t laughed that hard in years.” He grinned at Brooke. She grinned right back, leaning over and messing up Jeremy’s hair. He slapped her hand away quick enough, sticking his tongue out. “Anyways, thanks for driving me around.” He said. Hey, he might live alone and isolate himself most of the time, but he still had decent manners. Brooke waved her hand and smiled.

“Anytime. You just owe me one. And I already know exactly what you owe me,” She squinted her eyes dramatically, waving her fingers around. Jeremy pressed his lips together as he opened the car door.

“You can tell me about it tomorrow. I’m too tired to pay attention much longer.”

“Titties!” Brooke yelled loudly, a shit-eating grin on her face. It made Jeremy jump and accidentally slam the door shut. When he got over the shock, he raised a middle finger towards Brooke. She stuck her tongue out in response.

“Ugh.” Jeremy groaned. “You _know_ I hate it when you blep. _Put it back_ ,”

After a few minutes of bickering through the window glass, Brooke finally backed up out of the parking lot. Jeremy smiled and waved as Brooke drove away, watching her headlights turn the corner and retreat into the distance. As he pivoted to enter his apartment building, he let his smile drop.

The elevator ride felt longer than it probably was. Jeremy figured it was because he was eager to get upstairs and go to sleep. He was always so exhausted on therapy session days. It was yet another reason why he hated them so much.

As Jeremy exited the elevator and made his way down the hall, he waved to a passing person, smiling tightly. _Just a few more steps to TV and relaxation heaven_ , He thought desperately.

But no.

As Jeremy locked his apartment door closed, his phone blasted a dubstep version of Zelda’s Lullaby. There’s only one number in his phone besides Rose, and he would have previously thought he was done talking to his friend for the night. He sighed, mourning the loss of peaceful quiet, and slid to accept the call.

“I hate to admit it, but you drove off just about...three point seven minutes ago.” Jeremy said sarcastically, rubbing his eyes and taking a few more steps into his apartment. He flicked on the lights, glancing around to find the TV remote.

“I know, I know. Sorry. Not really. But I had to ask you...Chloe invited me to hang out with her friends this weekend.” Brooke’s seemingly always perky voice came through the other end. Jeremy could also hear background music. Ugh, was that Avril Levigne?

“Wait, you two haven’t even gone on your first date yet. Right?”

“Right. But we were already friends before, and she knows like I know that our date is going to go well. So, she invited me. And she said I could invite you.”

Dread filled Jeremy’s stomach. Social gatherings were something he always tried to avoid, and Brooke knew that. “How about no?” He supplied helpfully.

“How about you owe me? Like you said, it’s been...three point...whatever minutes. You _must_ remember that you are in great debt.” Brooke made her voice sound professional and dull, which sounded awkward on such a passionate sounding person. Jeremy held back another groan, biting his lip.

“I thought you said you had something in mind already?” He questioned. Any excuse was a good one if it got him out of this.

“I was going to force you to let me do your nails, but seeing as we hadn’t agreed on it...yeah. I’m cashing in my favour and this is it. Deal with it.” Jeremy could hear the sound of the music stopping (thank god) and Brooke getting out of her car. She only lived about five minutes from Jeremy’s apartment, though she had a little house that she rented out instead of an apartment for fairly cheap.

It wouldn’t kill him to go out for once, would it? Sure, maybe someone might accidentally pat him on the shoulder or yell too loud or make a joke that hit too close to home, but maybe he could deal with it for once. He could try the breathing techniques that Rose had shown him. (Like they’d even work.)

He sighed for the umpteenth time today as he nodded a little irritably, accepting his torturous fate.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go. But _you_ owe _me_ now, because you know I have an ongoing grudge against being social.” He took a seat on his couch, grabbing the remote from between the left and middle cushion and turning on the TV.

“Yay! Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone now. But sleep well! Night!”

With that, Brooke ended the call. Jeremy sighed in relief. He loved the girl, but sometimes, he really just needed to hear less of her high-pitched voice and more of Friends re-runs.

Jeremy set the volume low, knowing that he was probably going to fall asleep any minute now. His eyes felt droopy and heavy, like they were dying to be closed. With a sigh, he got comfortable on his side, snuggled into a pillow, and closed his eyes.

 

_He was standing in the dark, nothing but blackness all around him. And it was quiet. So, so eerily quiet. It didn’t feel scary or ominous, though. Jeremy could sense a steady breeze in the air, and all he could think about was how nice it felt._

_Then, suddenly, there were two hands gripping his waist from behind._

_“You need to learn to keep your feet still and twist at the waist. Your core is your pivot point. It’s where you should feel the strain when you’re throwing punches.” The words were said right into Jeremy’s ear. It sent shivers down his spine. He recognised the voice as soon as he heard it. The hands on his waist seemed to burn into him, making him feel exposed and raw._

_He tried to shift away, but he couldn’t move. “Get away,” He managed to croak weakly. Why was his voice so weak?_

_The hands disappeared, leaving Jeremy alone in the darkness again. It wasn’t as calming as it had been before, this time tauntingly and dangerously empty._

_Suddenly, a woman tied to a chair appeared in front of him. A spotlight from no where lit up the woman, but he couldn’t make out her facial features._

_“Do it.” Eric was beside him now, sliding a gun into his hand. He could suddenly move again, though he almost wished he couldn’t. “Kill her.” Jeremy turned once again to the woman, eyes wide and hands shaking. She suddenly looked up, smiling softly. Jeremy’s eyes widened as he realised it was his mother._

_“It’s okay, sweetie.” Her voice was thin and wavering, nothing like Jeremy remembered it sounding like. It had been a while, sure, but he still remembered his own mother’s voice. It had always been strong and booming, shattering through his childhood nightmares and making him feel safe. It felt so surreal to hear it so broken._

_Eric seemed to sense his hesitation, because he gripped Jeremy’s shoulder and flipped him around, scowling deeply._

_“Do it, Jeremiah! Do it before I do it for you!” He stepped forward, hand raised to strike, and Jeremy reacted without intending to. His arms slammed out to push Eric away, head turning to shield itself._

_But instead of hitting something solid, his hands became drenched with a warm liquid. Jeremy wrenched his hands away in terror, only to feel something else come along with them. A knife was in his right palm, along with oozing red blood that slid down his hands and arms. Eric doubled over, making those wet gurgling noises Jeremy remembered from two years ago._

_Eric suddenly disappeared, leaving Jeremy in the darkness once more. All he could focus on was the blood on his hands. He dropped the knife, jumping as it clattered to the ground. The sound echoed throughout the dark._

 _Jeremy fell to his knees, shaking with panic and terror. He’d actually killed someone. Actually, thoroughly ran a knife through someone and killed them. Forever._ Permanently _. The thought loomed over his head like a dark cloud, crowding his thoughts with guilt and shame._

_Through the emptiness, he heard Eric’s voice say, “You’ll have time to hurt later.”_

 

Jeremy’s eyes flew open, dripping with tears. His heart was still hammering loudly in his chest.

As he rushed to sit up, he brought his hands together, brushing them off on his blankets rapidly like a madman. Thankfully, they were perfectly clean of any blood. And they were ice cold. It felt much better than the warmth he’d felt over them in the dream.

The TV screen was still flashing (with That 90’s Show now) and his kitchen light was still on. With a shaky sigh, Jeremy managed to haul himself up and turn both off. He shuffled down the hall and into his room, hands wrapped around himself tightly. He still felt bare and exposed, like something was looming over him. Furthermore, he felt like someone was watching his every move.

He blamed it on the stupid nightmare as he fell into bed, wrapping the covers around his lanky body tightly(but keeping his hands out. He didn’t want them to turn all warm again).

Jeremy should be used to the nightmares by now, but it seemed like every one of them took him by surprise. His mind didn’t even have the decency to give him a reoccurring nightmare, so he could expect what was coming. Each one was different. A different outcome, a different reason to panic, a different way to feel paranoid. Every morning, he’d try to forget. And he’d succeed until he fell asleep again and woke up with a racing heart and tears in his eyes.

But for now, Jeremy let his eyes close and prayed he’d only have one nightmare tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- the flashy screen thing that bothered Jeremy was not because of just the screen. If you’ve seen the Incredibles movie, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Very flashy. That’s what threw him off.  
> \- I’d also like to point out that all the shops and places I mention are real places, though I add in a few random names for employees to give the story more depth. Thanks for coming to my ted talk. 
> 
> ThAnkS foR rEaDinG? *awkwardness intensifies*


	3. The Act of More Than Surviving (Ft. Charming Freckles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy has the get-together tomorrow, and even though he still doesn’t want to go, he’s accepted his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and get it, folks. 
> 
> (Also I really feel like my writing is really chunky in this chapter. Sorry if it doesn’t flow as well as my last ones.)

The rest of Jeremy’s week was spent mostly in the back of Kung Fu Tea, a bubble tea shop near the University that had decided they wanted a website. Jeremy had agreed to the job as soon as he’d gotten the call, promising to make them a great website.

Hours were spent in the back of the shop with a cup of milk tea mixed with chewy tapioca balls, designing the website and typing in all the information the owner had provided. Jeremy had already made a few web pages before, so transferring the menu info and arranging the main page like a greeting card wasn’t too difficult.

“How’s it going?” The manager of the restaurant, Ofelia Lopez, took a seat in the chair across from Jeremy, slipping a notebook into the pocket of her apron. He pulled his earbuds out even though he was easily able to hear everything over the low volume of his music. He did have a professional reputation to uphold.

“O-Oh, it’s going fine. I’m actually almost finished.” He internally cursed his stutter as he saved all his progress and closed his computer for now, facing Ofelia and offering a small smile.

“Good, good. We’re closing up in a few minutes, so I figured I’d let you know.” She motioned to the clock on the wall behind her vaguely. Jeremy checked it and saw that it was already 9:56. Time had really flown by.

“Right. Um, definitely, I’ll get out of your hair. I can have the website finished and posted by tomorrow, but I won’t be able to show you all the features in person until M-Monday.” Jeremy began to collect his things; wrapping up his earbuds, slipping all his notes into his folder.

“There’s no rush. I hardly know how to use computers anyways,” Ofelia grinned at Jeremy, standing up once more and brushing off her shirt. “I’ll see you on Monday, then. Does noon work for you?” Jeremy swallowed and nodded, standing up himself.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be here.” She nodded and turned, heading back behind the counter.

Jeremy exhaled shakily. Who knew human interaction was so difficult?

Although working in public wasn’t his favourite thing, it helped him create better websites. He got to really feel the atmosphere, sitting and observing as customers flowed in and out. Plus, he usually got discounts on meals and boba throughout the day. That part was definitely awesome.

After Jeremy had everything filed into his satchel, he waved once more to Ofelia and the employees and left the store, sipping the rest of his tea.

Today had been mentally exhausting. So much planning and organisation went into websites. Jeremy was more of an _organised mess_ type of person, so this job certainly challenged his die-hard habits.

His phone started to ring as he passed two seemingly gossiping teenage girls. Jeremy tried to contain his embarrassment and uneasiness as both eyed him hungrily, like he was prey, whispering behind their hands. _Ignore them_ , He thought. _They’re just random people you don’t know. It’s not like you’ll ever seen them again. Probably._

“H-Hey, Brooke.” Jeremy rubbed his eyes as he finally made it to his car, unlocking the doors and getting inside with a breath of relief.

“Jeremy! Are you ready for tomorrow? It’s gonna be the best time ever. Chloe only invited her friends Jake and Jenna, but the two of them invited more people. So now the total is up to seven, excluding you. _Including_ you, it’s a big happy eight.” Brooke sounded excited, like her whole world revolved around this one get together.

“Great. Such a happy number, eight. You know what number is even happier? _Zero_ ,” Jeremy didn’t even try to hide his disdain as he turned his car on. Warmth from the heater flooded the space as Brooke sighed into the phone. Distantly, Jeremy wondered if he needed anything from the store.

“I know you don’t want to come, Jer. But believe me, this is the best way to get rid of social anxiety. Or at least to get better at talking to people.” Brooke sounded slightly preoccupied as she spoke, like she wasn’t focusing completely on the call. Jeremy had a sneaking suspicion that she was painting her nails. “Besides, there’s this guy that Chloe told me about. Judging from his interests and hobbies, I think you two would get along _swimmingly_.”

“Oh jeez, Brooke, when have you ever used the word swimmingly? I think this Chloe girl is rubbing off on you.” Jeremy scrunched up his nose playfully, putting Brooke on speaker momentarily so he could connect the call to the Bluetooth in his car.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Brooke huffed defensively. Jeremy could practically envision her pouty face. He rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Nothing, nothing. How was your two’s date?” He decided to change the topic instead of teasing Brooke more.

Brooke went off on her usual critiquing rant, judging everything from the food to Chloe. Though when she got to Chloe, she had no con’s to go over. Jeremy listened a little smugly as Brooke went on and on and on about how beautifully curled Chloe’s hair was, or how her cat eye was cutting-edge perfection. He was definitely going to he lording this over her for as long as possible.

“Well, anyways,” Brooke sighed dreamily, ending her rant.

“I can see that you care... _vaguely_ for Miss Chloe.” Jeremy joked sarcastically, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He decided he didn’t need anything, so he could just head straight home. Nice. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her. I mean, there’s just nothing about her that I don’t like. She even likes judging things like me!” Brooke squealed loudly, making Jeremy jump. He licked his lips, turning a corner.

“Oh, grand.” Now he had _two_ picky people to critique him.

“Do you believe in love, Jer?” Brooke asked innocently, voice curious.

That was a question that Jeremy didn’t know how to answer.

What was love anyways? It was caring enough for someone that you’d kill and die for them, according to romance novels.

He knew that he cared for Brooke. He had cared for his parents. Would he kill for them, though? Would he put his own life on the line? Jeremy would like to say yes, but he supposed that he’d probably never truly know the answer. He hoped he’d never have to find out.

And Eric. He’d...loved Eric. At least for a while. When things had been sweet and warm. During the good times in their relationship, he was positive he would have died for Eric if he’d asked. And there was no doubt that he would have killed for his ex-husband. After all, he had went through months of training to ensure he could protect himself by any means necessary. But he’d never had to use his skills. Eric had always ‘protected’ him from everything by keeping him locked up. He’d kept Jeremy out of trouble by correcting him harshly for the tiniest mistakes.

Jeremy shook himself out of his thoughts before he could spiral too deep.

If what he and Eric had had was love, he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe in it.

“Um...I’ll believe it when I see it?” Jeremy‘s reply was stiff, concealing the loud _absolutely not_ that wanted to escape his lips. Brooke seemed to find his answer amusing, because she chuckled lowly.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll see love tomorrow when you meet the guy Chloe told me about. Prepare yourself for love at first sight!” Jeremy bit his lip instead of replying, huffing slightly. He really hoped that Brooke wasn’t being serious. He was _not_ going to get into relationship. Things were still too messy in his head.

(And frankly, even if he did really like someone, no one was going to have enough patience for his stupid mental issues. And even if they _did_ , he wasn’t sure he’d ever open up to them about it. Who would stay with him after he confessed to having stabbed someone? Like he’d said, everything was just a mess. Jeremy could keep coming up with excuses all day about it. There was no winning.)

“Yeah. Whatever you say, Brookie. Look, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jeremy exchanged goodbyes with Brooke (who was reluctant to go) and ended the call.

As he stopped at a red light, he took a few deep breaths. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, making his knuckles white. _Just calm down. Nothing hard about that. Breathe._

He managed to turn _off_ his thoughts by turning _on_ some music. Funny how that worked.

And somehow, his mind remained blissfully blank for the last few minutes of his drive.

 

//

 

Jeremy didn’t have nightmares that night.

He didn’t know how or why they had decided to randomly stop after two years of restless nights . He just knew that when he woke up, he felt more rested than he’d felt in...forever. He felt alive. Refreshed. Ready to take on the world. (Luckily, all he had to take on was a dinner date.)

Jeremy spent most of the day cleaning his apartment. It was something he hadn’t done in months and wasn’t very good at in the first place, but it made him feel kind of invincible. Especially when he actually got the courage to pull out his ancient vacuum and move the couch to suck the dust away.

As he cleaned, Jeremy stuck his cheap earbuds in and jammed out to music that he’d never gotten around to listening to. (Read: didn’t have the mental strength to because he was too exhausted to shoulder anything more in his head, even if it _was_ catchy lyrics.)

“Some days I lie wide awake till the sun hits my face, duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh dun,” Jeremy sang under his breath as he tucked the vacuum back away and brushed off his hands. He examined the living room, trying to find anymore dust. Surprisingly, Jeremy didn’t find any. The place looked decent for a change.

His alarm went off just as his song ended, alerting Jeremy that it was five o’clock. He’d better take a shower and get dressed unless he wanted to be late for the event that he did not what-so-ever want to attend. His good mood didn’t cure his anxiety and anti-social ness. 

   The shower seemed to make him feel even better somehow, even if he couldn’t take a piping hot one like he preferred. Jeremy’s skin would get all red and blotchy for hours, and he definitely didn’t want to show up to the get-together looking like a tomato.

He walked out of his apartment in a soft t-shirt and bleached straights. (Which he found ironic.) He had to admit that he’d looked alright when he’d glanced in the mirror. His hair had cooperated and everything, curling in a good way against his forehead. Today just seemed to be his day, he supposed.

Jeremy’s good mood freaked him out just a little. Not enough to ruin it, but enough to sit in the back of his mind. It was strange to feel normal and happy. Jeremy always started his day by praying it would be a good one, but for it to actually happen... It seemed surreal.

He decided to stop questioning it. The universe owed him one, anyways. 

Until traffic.

Jeremy’s perfect schedule erupted into flames in an instant. Seemingly, it also blew up in his face a few times over the course of what was supposed to be a ten minute drive.

“Stupid red light,” Jeremy muttered, trying hard not to honk his horn at the idiot driver to his left who thought they could squeeze in front of him. “Stupid dumb drivers,” He shut his radio off, too aggravated to even focus on Brendon Urie’s beautiful voice.

His phone chimed suddenly; a text from Brooke.

_BerryBrooke: Are you not coming??? You promised you’d come :’(((_

The message alone made Jeremy’s gut fill with guilt. He was quick to type a response, pleading that the traffic would let up just enough for him to make it to the restaurant. It was 7:21, and if he got there too late everyone would already have their meals, and he’d either have to order awkwardly and be the last one eating, or just force himself to survive all night on a couple beers.

_Me: traffic. sorry ill b there soon._

As soon as Jeremy sent it, the light turned green. He ended up letting the idiot driver move in front of him, just because he knew he didn’t want the guy behind him. No way he’d let the idiot rear-end him. (As bad as sounded in his head, it was true.)

Jeremy still felt a little pissed off as he turned into the restaurant parking lot, but tried to compose himself. He’d been in a good mood, after all. Temporary anger was just that—temporary. Hopefully.

The joint in question was a bar and grill type place, with polished wooden tables and music that sounded like a mix of country and rock. It wasn’t too bad; even had decent decor and a pleasant looking wall with shelves of alcohol. The air was thick, probably from the food and warm bodies that filled the room.

Jeremy managed to spot Brooke sitting at a table a little towards the back, five others sitting with her. There were two empty seats, so that meant someone else was even later than him. (Thank god.)

After he informed the waiter that he was with “—that group back there, yes,” Jeremy made his way towards one of the empty seats. It was the one to the left of Brooke, and he was willing to bet she’d saved it just for him.

“Jeremy! There you are! I was afraid you weren’t coming...” She pouted a little, brushing some of her hair back. Jeremy smiled easily at her, patting her shoulder.

“I got your messages. Sorry I’m late,” He directed the last part a little more towards the rest of the strangers at the table. They all looked...strangely ecstatic. Like they were having a joyous time. 

A man with dirty blond hair (with a red stripe off to the side, which made him look like a rooster) grinned. “No worries, dude! My best bud is even later than you. He’s the one we’re all hoping you’ll, ah, how should I say this,” He leaned forward in his chair, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. “ _Familiarise_ yourself with? Wink wonk?”

The man beside him nudged him hard, laughing. “Rich, what the hell! That was a terrible first impression.” The man speaking looked like an actual god, with a perfect jawline and handsomely tossed hair. His smile was blinding.

“You expect Richard Goranski to make a decent first impression, Jake? What world you livin’ in?” A rather plump girl across the table spoke next, mouth stuffed with complimentary bread and eyes on her phone.

“Touché.” Jake said in turn, wrapping an arm around Rich and grinning cheerily.

“Will everyone settle down? At least introduce yourselves!” Brooke spoke up, snapping her fingers to get everyone’s attention. The woman beside her rolled her eyes, but she had a small smile on her face. Jeremy guessed she must be Chloe. (Her eyeliner really was perfect.)

“Right! I’m Rich Goranski. Pleasure, pleasure,” Rich reached over and offered Jeremy a bro-fist. Jeremy couldn’t do much else but knock his knuckles against Rich’s, smiling a little nervously.

“I’m Jake Dillinger. Sup,” Jake waved lazily, looking a little too comfortable in his seat. Christ, even his hello’s were suave.

“Jenna Rolan.” The phone-girl looked up from her phone momentarily, offering a hazy smile. “Also, I take lots of pictures and post them everywhere. So don’t freak out if you see your face online.” Jeremy opened his mouth to try and come up with a response, but the next woman was already speaking.

“And I’m Christine Canigula! It’s so nice to finally meet you! You wouldn’t believe how much Chloe talks about Brooke, and how much _Brooke_ talks about _you_.” This Christine girl seemed positively bubbly. Happiness seemed to drip off her in radioactive waves. Her outfit had an absurd amount of colour in it, yet somehow matched.

“Oh...nice to, nice to meet you.” He smiled in return, rubbing his neck sheepishly. The next person down the line spoke, interrupting his awkwardness.

“I’m Brooke’s girlfriend. And I absolutely do _not_ talk about Brooke all the time,” Chloe shot Christine an aggravated look as she laced her manicured nails through Brooke’s. “The name’s Chloe Valentine, as you may already know.” She smiled tightly, like she wasn’t sure what to think of Jeremy yet. Jeremy wasn’t sure what to think of anyone here yet either, so he was in the same boat.

“J-Jeremy. Heere. Jeremy Heere. Though, you-you probably already knew that, huh?” He chuckled lightly, but Rich laughed loudly in response. It made Jeremy feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Oh, definitely! Jenna does all kind of research on everyone who anyone she knows knows. Wait...” Rich paused, finger resting on his chin. Chloe groaned, cupping her face but never making contact(probably to preserve her makeup).

“Everyone that Jenna knows knows people, right? She makes it her job to know about everyone she knows, but  also who _they_ know. Right?”

“What he means,” Jenna cut in, looking absolutely flabbergasted. “Is that I’m good at finding stuff online. And once Chloe told me about Brooke, I found her on Instagram. And you liked all her posts, so. Yeah. Sorry not sorry.” She shrugged slightly and set her phone down. Jeremy raised his hands helplessly in response, clueless as to what he should say. All he had on his Instagram was a few self-promotion posts for making websites, but it still made him feel weird that Jenna had done research.

“We’ve broken him already.” Chloe snerked, covering her mouth. Brooke giggled too, giving Jeremy a funny look. He just tried to laugh as well, relieved when everyone seemed to start talking among themselves again.

Jeremy thought he’d been prepared to meet people, but this group was absolutely crazy.

He liked it.

The waiter came around and asked for appetiser orders, so Jeremy took the opportunity to get a Long Island. Brooke also ordered curd puffs and promised to share, so Jeremy didn’t ask for anything else.

After everyone’s orders had been placed(and after Rich repeatedly told the waiter that they weren’t ordering their meals until his buddy showed up), Jeremy just watched. Watched as everyone interacted with each other. It was something he’d learned from Eric. To observe every accept of every situation. To find an emergency exit. To plan out excuses in case things got sticky. To study each individual and guess their weaknesses and strengths.

It was something he should probably try to stop doing if he wanted to move on, but it did help partially.

Rich was cocky. Loud. He had something to shout about no matter what topic was handed to him. It was almost impressive, really. He held himself with pride and bravado, sarcastically making jokes and somehow eating twice as fast as he spoke. He was unashamed to say anything, no matter how inappropriate.

Jake went along with everything Rich said. Even though he seemed to _follow_ Rich, Jeremy didn’t pin him as a follower. Jake was more of a go-with-the-flow type of guy. He had potential to be a leader. He was someone who held everyone together and kept it cool no matter the circumstances. Plus he was just about as hot as the hottest person he’d ever seen, so, there’s that.

Jenna was...similar to him. She didn’t particularly like to talk a lot, but she participated every once and a while. What she was really doing was observing. Just like Jeremy. She watched everyone and seemed to mentally mark down what everyone said, like she was building some type of blackmail folder. But she didn’t seem evil or anything, so Jeremy figured it was just in her nature. The one with all the latest drama.

Christine Canigula was a ray of sunshine. She was bouncy, energetic, and bright. In a way, she resembled Rich. She wasn’t rude or vulgar, but she was very spontaneous. You never knew what was going to come out of her mouth or what she was going to do. One minute she might be laughing along with the group, and the next she‘d be making weird robot noises. She also had an obsession with musical theatre, which was obvious from her constant references that Jermey may or may not have understood. ( _Every single one._ )

And then there was Chloe. She wasn’t as spontaneous as Christine or as laid back as Jake or even as silent as Jenna. She spoke plenty and also stayed quiet at times. She made snarky comments but also had empathy when she spoke. Jeremy had a sneaking suspicion that Chloe was the type to care deeply about the people around her but never show it bluntly. Ever. Except for with Brooke, whom she couldn’t seem to stop touching. Hands, face, arms. PDA galore.

Lastly, there was Brooke. But Jeremy already knew Brooke. She was kind and sweet; innocent and a little naive at times; insecure yet so sure of everyone else. Brooke was lovable. She cared about the people around her without much reason, and it was highly endearing. And she seemed to melt into Chloe’s touch, so Jeremy knew she really hadn’t been kidding when she said she was in love with Chloe  

Jeremy’s thoughts were cut off when Rich yelled, “You wanna bet, Rolan?” Jeremy turned just in time to see Jenna pull out her phone to record, grinning widely.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” She chanted in a deeper voice, pounding her fist on the table. Rich turned to Jake, who looked ready to burst into laughter. Rich batted his eyes innocently before sticking out his tongue and licking Jake’s face. Everywhere. It was both disgusting and hilarious, and made Jeremy laugh in disbelief.

(Jenna got the whole thing on camera, of course.)

Rich and Jake seemed very comfortable with each other. If Jeremy had to guess, he’d say they were either engaged or close to it. Good for them.

“Whoop, don’t look now.” Chloe smiled just slightly, pointing her fork towards the direction of the door. Jeremy didn’t turn to see in favour of taking another drink of his beverage.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t swell Michael Mell! We thought you’d never show up!” Rich, who of fucking course was the first one to greet this Michael Mell, stood up. Jeremy finally shifted in his seat as Rich bro-hugged a short man with tan skin, slicked back brown hair, and a red hoodie.

“Sorry, everyone. I decided last minute not to take my shitty PT, cos you _know_ I’m gonna take home a hot dude tonight, and I don’t want them seeing—“ Michael stopped talking abruptly as he pulled his chair out. The chair that was just so conveniently placed right beside Jeremy’s. Their eyes met, and Jeremy wanted to scream, run away, and laugh at the same time. A fun combination.

Michael was hot. And not in the _I-like-the-way-you-look_ hot. The type of hot that you see and wonder how you ever thought anyone else was ever attractive before. The type of hot that was so hot it was almost cold. The type of hot that seemed to change your life. Jeremy wanted to curse loudly, because _how had Brooke known._

Of course, all these thoughts coursed through Jeremy’s head in a split second, followed by thoughts of _no, no, no._ Sure, maybe this guy was _unbelievably adorable in every way and even had hipster glasses, what the fuck_ , but Jeremy was not going to get involved like that.

“I’m Jeremy.” He said instead of screaming, or running away, or laughing. They were good options, but he wanted to at least appear sane. He smiled brightly as he said it, making sure it didn’t show the blur of emotions he’d just felt.

“So I’ve heard,” Michael said, sitting down. He wore an easy smile, but his eyes looked curious, like he’d just felt the roller coaster of feelings Jeremy had. Weird. “Uh, I’m Michael Mell. By the way, just saying, you have an attractive face. Freckles. They’re charming.” Michael motioned vaguely to Jeremy’s face, pushing his glasses father up his nose.

“Oh! Thanks! Thanks, I guess. I like your glasses. They’re-they’re nice.” Jeremy’s voice was turning all weird and wobbly. Michael was flirting. And Jeremy flirted back without thinking. Why in God’s name was this happening? What the actual fuck?

“Woah, you two gays done yet?” Rich asked, smirking.

“I don’t think they’ll ever be done, Richy.” Brooke smiled at Jeremy, winking. Jeremy waved his hands around desperately.

“No! I-god, sorry. I just-I don’t know, I like his patches. PAC-Man is awesome, okay?” Jeremy rushed for an excuse, pointing out Michael’s hoodie. It was full with nerdy patches. It was totally awesome. Jeremy wished it wasn’t.

   Michael smiled under the praise, and it made his round face glow, but Jeremy tired to focus on anything else but that. 

“I know, right? He also has a Zelda one! I’ve never played, but the logo is cool.” Christine beamed, seeming to be either completely oblivious or kind enough to take pity on Jeremy and _act_ completely oblivious.

Conversation took off from there, dragging itself far away from Michael and Jeremy. Good. Great. Brilliant. That’s what Jeremy needed.

The waiter came by a few minutes later and took their food orders. Rich already had something in mind for Michael, and Michael blindly trusted that it would be good. Interesting.

Jeremy ordered a French Dip sandwich because he didn’t know what else to get and didn’t want to be basic and just get a burger.

After the waiter disappeared, the table was booming again with stories and laughter. Michael’s arm kept brushing against Jeremy’s as he made various hand gestures, and it burnt. In a good way, though.

Jeremy studied Michael for a while, trying to get a grip on who he was. He could tell that Michael was a bit of a geek. He brought up video games(that Jeremy had never heard of, duh) and X-Men comics(that Jeremy knew absolutely nothing about, obviously) with almost every sentence that came out of his mouth. He spoke about smoking weed like it was the same as taking a jog around the block. He seemed like a child still. Like he wasn’t completely grown up.

But there was also something else. Something under his eyes that Jeremy couldn’t quiet get a hold on. A certain wisdom. Like he’d been through things.

It reminded Jeremy of himself.

After that, he decided to stop observing.

Instead, he just drank his beer, ate his food, and pretended he was a normal 22 year old out with his friends.

That’s what he was supposed to be, so that’s what he’d become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> -ALL THE PLACES ARE REAL. I dunno why I keep saying this, but. I did so much research and every restaurant is so real.  
> -Ok so someone asked last chapter why Jeremy isn’t really getting serious help for his problems and such? The answer is that he’s stubborn. (Besides we get more backstory later, so be patient.)  
> -I know the whole Michael-meets-Jeremy scene is like probably slightly over exaggerated and not so much in character, but I mean. I know I’ve met people who I have an instant connection with. Idek. No regerts.  
> -I have an issue with switching tenses as I write, so apologies for that  
> -Not straight people wearing straight jeans is my favourite thing.  
> -To keep myself writing, I made a few Pinterest mood(ish?) boards for our characters. There are only like three sections rn, but who knows what’ll happen. Here’s the link: https://www.pinterest.com/bemorechillbaby/egregious/ (There’s also foreshadowing for next chapters in some of the pictures, sooo. ;;;)
> 
> Thanks for reading :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Um...yeah.
> 
> Let me know what you think. I’m always open to constructive criticism. :-)


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